


A Bed For My Friends

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Breakfast, F/F, F/M, Gen, Revelations, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6805327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack sits down to breakfast with one of Phryne's lovers. Or rather, several of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bed For My Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandjack/gifts).



> Wardlow is apparently a fuckton bigger than it looks from the front. So Whiskeyandjack and I realized Phryne could easily have like five lovers over at once and just pick which one she wants to fuck on any given night. Or go from room to room. So one morning they all meet up at the breakfast table. XD 
> 
> For whiskeyandjack, because this was her idea and it was too hysterical to pass up. XD Happy birthday! ♥

_“Mighty proud I am that I am able to have a spare bed for my friends.”_   
_– Samuel Pepys_

 

“I’m afraid Miss Fisher is still in bed,” said Mr. Butler apologetically. He took Detective-Inspector Robinson’s hat and coat and gestured to the dining room. “I’m sure she would say that you’re welcome to stay and have breakfast until she rises, but, er...”

Jack paused in the act of making a beeline for the coffee and toast. “Yes?”

“Well... Miss Fisher had guests last night.”

Jack raised his eyebrows.

“Gentleman guests.”

The eyebrows climbed higher. “...Plural?”

Mr. Butler nodded. “Mr. Lin is at the table, currently. There will doubtless be other gentlemen joining him shortly.”

Jack considered his position, and the position of Mr. Lin, and of Miss Fisher, and the various positions she had probably assumed during the preceding evening. “That’s all right, Mr. Butler,” said Jack finally, smiling with his most professional and polite smile, “I’m sure Mr. Lin and I can find things to talk about.”

He crossed into the dining room and bid the silk-dealer a pleasant good morning before taking a seat (Jack didn’t _purposely_ sit down at the head of the table; it was simply where he always sat when Phryne invited him for dinner). “I trust your wife is in good health?” Jack continued, while Mr. Butler laid a place setting for him and brought him the strong coffee he preferred in the morning.

“Camellia is well,” Lin replied, continuing on with his breakfast.

“Miss Fisher tells me congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. Although my grandmother is less than pleased. She would have preferred that my firstborn be a son. But I’m more than content with a daughter,” Lin said with a small smile, “considering her pedigree.”

Jack swallowed a mouthful of toast and grinned. “My mother always said sons were overrated. So were you and Phryne celebrating last night?”

Lin’s friendly demeanor was arrested by the question. The inspector was _aware_ of the nature of his infrequent liaisons with Phryne Fisher, and there had been some... friction about it, in the early days. But whatever Jack Robinson’s relationship to Phryne was now, Lin had not been made privy. “She hosted a small party last night. It’s her house.”

“And so it is,” Jack agreed, reaching for the plate of bacon and eggs. “Did you wear her out by yourself, or was it a joint affair?”

Lin half-choked on his tea.

“I only ask because I want her down at the station for witness interrogations, and I was wondering how much later you thought she might sleep.”

“I... really can’t say. As I said, I was not the only man here last night, but as to who had the pleasure of her intimate company...” Lin shrugged. “It wasn’t me.”

Another candidate , a lanky youth wearing only his trousers and undershirt, yawned and slouched his way into the dining room. “Oh!” the young man said, starting and blushing at the sight of the two elegantly-dressed men already eating. “So sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

It took Jack a moment to place the face. “No apologies needed, Mr. Thompson. We’re just waiting for Miss Fisher to put in an appearance. Pull up a chair.”

Lindsey Thompson, who had been invited to Wardlow to celebrate his passing the bar, inched his way into a chair and tried to wipe the self-satisfied smirk from his lips. “Everyone have a pleasant night?” he asked, taking a plate.

“Thoroughly,” said Lin without missing a beat.

“I’m sure I did, too. I just wish I could remember it. Afraid I had far too many drinks. That old bird mixed a mean cocktail—oh, thank you,” Lindsey said, as Mr. Butler set a glass before him containing a bright mixture of soda water and grenadine.

“He also mixes a mean hangover cure,” said Jack dryly. “I don’t suppose you left our fair hostess slumbering peacefully, did you?”

“Er... afraid she wasn’t anywhere to be seen when I woke up.”

Jack snorted; Lin rolled his eyes.

A third gentleman strolled in. “Morning, chaps,” said Captain Lyle Compton breezily, crashing down into the Chippendale chair at the foot of the table. “Hell of a night, wasn’t it? Oh, hallo, Jack!” He grinned at Jack with the cheeky aviator’s bravado that concealed so much. “We missed you last night.”

“Is that so...” Jack bisected a fried egg and dunked his toast into the yolk.

“God, yes. Flowing champagne, dancing, jazz—other activities—”

“Scandalous,” said Jack dryly. “Do you happen to know if Phryne’s coming down soon?”

“Couldn’t say,” Compton replied, beginning to serve himself pancakes. “Wish I could, but unfortunately, it wasn’t me who gave Phryne a good time last night. Must’ve been one of these lucky bastards.”

Lin and Lindsey frowned across the table at one another. “But...”

“Good _God_ , am I tired,” grumbled a new voice, one wrapped in a familiar black fighting cock-embroidered dressing gown, but who was emphatically not the dressing gown’s owner.

Jack’s eyebrows climbed back into his hairline. “Good morning, Dr. MacMillan.”

“Hmm? Oh, hello, Jack. Phryne thought you might turn up this morning. She’s in the bath at the moment. I had to practically roll her into it, otherwise she might not be conscious today. Oh, and speaking of conscious, Mr. Butler, could I trouble you? Two strong coffees, upstairs.”

“Of course, Doctor,” said Mr. Butler, retreating into the kitchen.

Mac scrubbed a hand through her tangled red hair and yawned openly. The four men at the table each stole a glance at her bare feet and legs, peeking out from the hem of the dressing gown. “Ugh, so sorry to disturb you males at feeding-time, but I didn’t get much sleep last night. Hope we didn’t keep any of you awake... might as well go see if I can find where Phryne hid my clothes.” She turned on her heel and went back upstairs.

Lindsey Thompson gaped at her, looking close to passing out from confusion. Captain Compton’s mouth hung open, and he couldn’t seem to stop blinking.

Jack and Lin looked at each other for a moment or two, shrugged, and then went on with their breakfasts.


End file.
